


Those Damn Delanceys

by Yellow_Dugong44



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Albert DaSilva & Racetrack Higgins Friendship, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Concerned Albert DaSilva, Fluffy, Gen, Hurt Racetrack Higgins, Morris Delancey and Oscar Delancey Being Assholes, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:54:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27735658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yellow_Dugong44/pseuds/Yellow_Dugong44
Summary: Now that he was older, Race didn't expect to get jumped on the street anymore. However, he let his mind wander and those damn Delanceys yanked him into an alley for a soaking, making sure no one could hear him scream. Fluffy hurt/comfort from Race and Albert ensues.
Relationships: Albert DaSilva & Racetrack Higgins, Racetrack Higgins & Jack Kelly
Comments: 5
Kudos: 19





	Those Damn Delanceys

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is the first fanfiction I've ever had the courage to post and I'm actually really nervous about it, but I chose a fandom that I absolutely love to start with and I'm pretty proud of what I ended up with. This fanfic was written with my combined knowledge of both the Newsies movie and Broadway show, but it was intended to be read imagining Ben Cook's Race and Sky Flaherty's Albert. I hope you enjoy!

“A pair a new shoes with matchin’ laces…” Race sang half-heartedly, looking down at his worn boots and the black and brown string that were pretty much holding them together. It was only on cold afternoons when business was slow that Race started daydreaming of all the things he would probably never get. Boots were what he wanted right now, because on a chilly September afternoon, the only thing he could think about was how cold his toes were. Sighing, Race pulled himself up from where he’d been perched on a fire escape and made his way back to the street.

 _Ughhh… five more papes and no one ‘round to buy ‘em, this day really is goin’ wonderf’lly._ Rolling his eyes, Race turned and walked towards Brooklyn, looking for anyone heading home after a long day at work. About a block ahead of him, three young women in fancy dresses came into view, so Race put on his best selling face and jogged to catch up with them.

A few minutes later, after a whole lot of half made-up headlines, Race walked away with a nickel in his pocket and only two papes left, grinning. He found a few other people who didn’t want anything to do with him and one young man who begrudgingly bought a pape after a lot of persuasion, so Race was feeling pretty good. When he finally sold his last pape, he realized how close he was to the Brooklyn bridge, so instead of heading straight back to the lodging house or Jacobi’s for dinner (where there wasn’t much food anyway), Race decided to try and find Albert or Finch at their selling spots. So, he switched directions and headed for the harbor. Race knew this part of New York like the back of his hand, so he let his mind wander, trusting his feet to take him where he wanted to go. It’d been a couple of months since he’d gotten jumped and year since he’d been soaked in this part of town, so he wasn’t really worried. He should’ve been.

“Umph!” A hand shot out of an alley and grabbed Race around the neck, dragging him off the street. He hit the ground hard and glared up at his two offenders. Morris and Oscar Delancey stood above the tall newsie, smirking and brandishing their brass knuckles.

“Whatcha want Morris?” Race growled, watching the Delancey circle closer.

“Well Racey boy, we was bored and lookin’ for some poor newsie to soak when all of a sudden, you’se came saunterin’ outa nowhere. So…” Morris said haughtily, coming closer and closer as he talked.

“Alright, enough talk, let’s soak ‘em!” Oscar yelled, jumping on the newsie who’d been slowly backing into a wall. Race leapt out of the way and tried to run out of the alley, but Morris was blocking the way.

“Goin’ somewhere Racer?” He sneered. Race shrugged, smirking.

“No where concernin’ the likes of you.” Morris growled and swung a punch, which Race managed to dodge. He almost got behind the Delancey and out of the alley before Oscar caught the back of his collar and dragged him backwards, pulling Race off his feet. He landed on his leg, twisting it underneath him and leaving him breathless and a little dazed, so he didn’t have any chance to run before the Delancey’s jumped on him. They rained punches and kicks on him, grinning when they heard the telltale snap of broken bones. Once Race was beaten black and blue, the Delancey’s finally stopped and started to walk away, but Oscar turned back and roughly pulled the newsie’s left arm up, off where it was resting on his chest. He stepped on Race’s chest and yanked his arm up, ripping his shoulder straight out of its socket. Race screamed in pain and the Delancey’s ran out of the alley, not wanting to be connected to his soaking. Race lay passed out in the middle of a dirty alley, looking like hell personified. The only reason anyone would know he was alive was because of his chest weakly rising and falling.

When he woke up a few minutes later, the Delancey’s were no where to be found and the evening bell was starting to ring. _Great, what the hell and I supposed to do now!?_ Race thought. He tried to move, but his whole body screamed at him in protest, so he just laid back down for a minute, trying to catch his breath. Eventually, the pain dulled a bit and he could breath a little better, so Race was able to crawl to the wall and painfully hoist himself up. He leaned heavily against the wall, favoring his right leg, and thought through his options. There weren’t many. He could try and catch Albert on his way back to the lodging house, he could try and get back to the lodging house on his own, or he could head for the bridge and hope that one of Spot’s newsies found him. Option A was probably his best bet, so Race limped to the entrance of the alley and started painfully limping towards where he thought Albert might be.

Luckily for Race, Albert was having a slow day and hadn’t left his spot yet. It’s not like he was always the first newsie back to the lodging house, in fact, he was usually the last, so the evening bell didn’t bother him. He’d just finished selling his papes, so he was kind of at a loss of what to do. Sighing, Albert decided to make his way towards central Manhattan, knowing that Race would have his head if he was late to their poker game with Finch. He whistled as he walked, jingling the coins in his pocket and timing his gait to make a tune to keep his long walk home interesting. But he completely forgot everything he was thinking about when he saw his best friend collapsed on the side of the street, barely breathing.

“Race!” Albert shouted, sprinting towards the other newsie. Race’s head lifted a little bit, enough to see his friend, and he smiled, relieved that Albert had found him. Albert reached him and quickly knelt beside him, concerned.

“Race? What da hell happened?” Albert asked, reaching out and gently helping Race sit up. It took a couple tries, but eventually Albert got his friend into a sitting position leaning against the wall.

“Da Delancey brothers jumped me a couple blocks from here. I did try to fight back, but dere were two a ‘em and ‘dey used brass knuckles.” Race answered breathlessly, gasping as his friend checked his ribs. Albert grimaced, fuming with rave at the Delancey’s treatment of his brother. He put it aside (for now) and checked Race over, prioritizing the injuries he needed to treat in his head. Race let his eyes slip closed, trying to ignore the burning pain in his ribs and shoulder and feeling so thankful for the fact that he was finally safe. But his eyes flew open a second later when Albert snapped his fingers in front of his face.

“No fallin’ asleep on me yet, I gotta pop ya shoulder back into place. I’ll soak those damn Delancey’s later, right now, I gotta take care a ya.” Race nodded hesitantly and Albert braced against the wall before he quickly pulled his friend’s shoulder into place. Race screamed in pain and collapsed forward against his friend, who quickly switched positions to better support him. They sat like that for a few minutes until Race caught his breath. Once he felt a little better, Albert pulled him to his feet and swung his uninjured arm over his shoulders, supporting him so he didn’t have to put to much weight on his bruised-up leg. Slowly but surely, they made their way across the city, heading for the lodging house.

Race hung his head, breathing heavily, but trying not to because of the pain in his ribs. They were about halfway back when Race stumbled and fell forward, almost taking Albert down with him before his friend caught a lamppost to stop their fall.

“Ya know what, fuck it.” Albert cursed and picked Race up bridal style. His friend tried to resist, but the long walk there had completely exhausted him, so he gave up and leaned his head against Albert’s chest.

“Thanks Albert.” Race whispered softly. Albert smiled and nodded as he carried his injured friend across the city. It took them a while, but eventually they made it to the lodging house. Maneuvering slightly, Albert held his friend with one arm as he opened the door. Everything was normal. Kloppman was teaching Specs how to manage his books, Mush and Boots were playing cards in the corner, and Jack and Crutchie were counting their earnings in the middle of the floor. Jack glanced up, expecting to see Race and Albert, but definitely not in the situation they were in now.

“Race? What da hell happened?” Jack asked, jumping up to help Albert support their friend. He motioned to the others and Mush and Boots jumped up and ran upstairs to find blankets while Specs and Kloppman went behind the desk to look for all the things they were gonna need.

“Da Delancey brothers jumped ‘im near where I was sellin’. When I get my hands on dem I swear…” Albert explained, clearly fuming. Jack nodded, his jaw clenching the only thing showing how upset he was. Together, they got Race up the stairs and laid him in Albert’s bed because it was the only one that was a bottom bunk. Mush and Boots came back and dropped the blankets off before disappearing downstairs, getting out of the way before they got yelled at. It only took Kloppman a few minutes to patch Race up, so he was able to finish and still make dinner for everyone who’d gotten back in time. That’s how Albert ended up sitting next to Race as he ate his watery soup, watching his friend’s chest rise and fall. The moment he saw his best friend laying on the street, not knowing if he was alive was haunting him.

“You thinkin’ is suffocatin’.” Albert’s eyes snapped up and met Race’s blue ones. For the first time since they got back, he grinned, chuckling at Race’s sheer stubbornness.

“Shut up.”


End file.
